


Old Comforts and Last Resorts

by slowjam



Category: Paramore
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowjam/pseuds/slowjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh and Hayley aren't very good at small talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Comforts and Last Resorts

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of a [larger fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/754420) I wrote back in 2008. Angsty, because that's all I seem to be able to write.

The performance goes off without a hitch, and when they wrap interviews for the evening all of them grab a champagne flute and try their best to mingle, as per request of the label. It takes a grand total of fifteen minutes before they regroup again.  
  
"So who'd you rub elbows with?" Josh asks.  
  
"My elbows have been getting zero action," Zac says, and Hayley nods. Taylor sips from his glass.  
  
"Yeah, same here. Hayley, I think you should try another color. This one is clearly freaking people out," Josh reasons. She scrunches her face at him and shakes her head, flopping her long auburn hair about.  
  
"You know, I kinda liked it when we only had like, Joe Schmoe or whoever pretending he's heard of us," Zac says. "It felt less like a burn."  
  
"Nah dude," Jeremy says as he sidles into the conversation. "What burns is knowing what it felt like when they _wanted_ to hear us." He grabs two glasses of champagne off of a passing tray and he says "thank you" to the server in a gratuitous high-pitched voice.  
  
They stare at him for a moment before he says, "C'mon now, you know they're not all for me! My glass got lost somewhere."  
  
"No, no," Taylor says, swishing the drink around in his glass. "We'll join you in your drinking binge." Taylor calls his girlfriend over and the whole group greets her before the newly assembled trio leave for the table Jeremy managed to get. "Lead the way, Jeremy."  
  
"Yeah, okay, but I'm really not on a drinking binge. I'm going to at least be conscious this time..." he says as he moves out of earshot. He can hear Taylor and his girlfriend laugh along with them as they recall Jeremy's overindulgence from the year before. He's copied the photos onto several CDs for safekeeping.  
  
"Hey wait!" Zac yells to them. "I'm his designated driver," he explains to Josh and Hayley.  
  
"You should probably stop drinking then."  
  
"Yeah. It doesn't work that way, bud," Hayley says. "And you're not driving anyway."  
  
"It does when the singles party is boring. And I can drive whenever I want, thank you very much," he defends. "Yo, wait up!"  
  
When he walks away Josh turns to Hayley and says, "I think he's given up on mingling."  
  
She smirks and tips her glass towards her face. "I don't blame him."

 

* * *

 

It's weird, because he knows the DJ probably thought it'd be "fashionably ironic" or "nostalgic" or whatever to play a late 90s slow jam when it probably just conjures up awkward high school parties that are best left forgotten.  
  
Not that he'd know or anything.  
  
So when she comes up to him and says it ( _says_ it), he can't help but laugh. She smiles at him, and he quickly realizes she's serious.  
  
He stops leaning against the bar counter top. "Okay, who put you up to this?"  
  
"What? No one. This is completely my idea, I swear." She tugs on his sleeve. "It isn't for PR or anything."  
  
He stares blankly. "I never said it was."  
  
Hayley stops tugging and looks at him. "Oh. Well you know what I mean." She drops her hand from his sleeve. "They used to always push that on us, even when it got rough. I figured you'd start thinking that."  
  
"No," Josh sighs. "Didn't even cross my mind until you brought it up, actually."  
  
Silence. She can feel him moving away even though his feet remain planted.  
  
"You know, I wish you'd quit doing that," she says finally. "I want to end this year on a high note. You've been getting into these random funks. I haven't seen you like this since... since --"  
  
"Do you miss it?"  
  
She stops.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you miss it?" he repeats flatly. "The Billboard charts. The media frenzy. People actually wanting to talk to us. Do you miss it?"  
  
As if he didn't know already.  
  
"I do. Of course I do," Hayley replies, deflating. "But I'm not asking you to dance with me because I want that back. I'm asking because I want to dance."  
  
The song continues to play. Beat beat clap snap. Beat beat clap snap.  
  
"Oh come on. Why would I even try anything like that? Taylor's dating a freaking actress and that hasn't gotten us anywhere," she says, trying to stifle any trace of desperation.  
  
(She misses how she always knew what he was going to do next.)  
  
The sides of his mouth curl into a smile. "She does indie films, Hayley."  
  
"Still. _Actress._ And besides, how much damage could this do?"  
  
(Sometimes he thinks she's forgotten it all. Other times he thinks she repeats his words just to spite him.)  
  
"Alright."  
  
Beat beat clap snap.  
  
She smiles. "I knew you'd cave."  
  
"Well, we've got nothing to lose anyway," he says as he walks past her. "Might as well do something."  
  
Hayley follows him. "It's always a last resort with you, huh?" she asks when he finds an open spot.  
  
He turns to face her and smiles tiredly. "It's the only way I get things done."  
  
She returns the smile and rests her arms on his shoulders. She tries to ignore the fact that she can feel him moving away even though his feet follow her own.


End file.
